You’ve probably seen it in an old movie or maybe at a folk festival in the Appalachian mountains. A guy stands there, arms slightly bent, clicking two curved pieces of wood or rib bone between his fingers with a speed that seems physically impossible. It looks like a trick. It sounds like a machine gun made of calcium. If you've ever wondered who plays on bones, the answer isn't just one type of person—it’s a massive, cross-continental lineage of rebels, street performers, and virtuosic musicians who have kept this rhythm alive since before the pyramids were even a blueprint.
Actually, calling it an "instrument" feels almost too formal. It’s primal.
Most people today associate the bones with Irish trad sessions or maybe those grainy videos of minstrel shows from the 19th century. But that’s such a tiny slice of the pie. From the ancient Greeks to modern-day bluesmen in the American South, the bones are the ultimate "people's instrument" because, well, everyone used to have dinner leftovers. If you ate a cow or a pig, you had a drum kit. Simple as that.
The Rhythm of the Everyman
Who plays on bones today? Honestly, it’s a niche crowd, but they are obsessed. You have guys like Dom Flemons, a founding member of the Carolina Chocolate Drops. He’s a scholar of "songster" culture. When he plays, he isn't just hitting sticks together; he’s channeling a specific Black string band tradition that almost got erased from history. He’s a prime example of how the bones bridged the gap between African rhythms and European melodies.
Then you have the Irish masters. Think of Peadar Mercier or Mel Mercier. In Ireland, the bones (or cnámha) are often played alongside the bodhrán. It’s a different vibe there. It’s tighter, more about the triplets and the "roll." If you go to a Fleadh Cheoil (a massive Irish music festival), you'll find kids as young as seven who can rattle off a jig on a pair of sheep ribs faster than you can blink.
It's weirdly democratic. You don't need a $2,000 Gibson guitar. You just need two pieces of cow bone, bleached and dried, and about six months of frustrating practice where you’ll mostly just drop them on your toes.
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Why the Bones Refuse to Die
The bones are physically demanding. It’s all in the wrist. You aren't "gripping" them; you’re letting one bone hang loose while the other stays stationary against your palm. Gravity and inertia do the work. This is why the people who play them tend to be a bit... eccentric. You have to be.
Historically, Percy Danforth is the name every bones player bows down to. He was a legend out of Ann Arbor, Michigan. He learned to play from Black kids in Washington D.C. back in the early 1900s. Danforth became a global ambassador for the instrument, proving that this wasn't just a gimmick—it was a sophisticated percussive art form capable of complex syncopation.
It’s not just about the "Clack"
There’s a common misconception that bones are just for "old-timey" music. Wrong. You’ll find them in:
- Blues and Jug Bands: Where the "clack" provides the high-end snap to balance out the deep thrum of a washboard or a tub bass.
- Vaudeville Revivals: Performers who value the theatricality of the movement.
- Experimental Percussion: Modern drummers who realize a pair of bones can cut through a mix better than any woodblock.
The Dark Side of the History
We have to talk about the 1800s. It’s the elephant in the room. The bones were a staple of minstrelsy. Because of that, for a long time, there was a huge stigma attached to them. Many Black musicians moved away from the bones because they were so closely tied to the racist caricatures of the Jim Crow era.
But here’s the thing: Black musicians invented those techniques. They took a tradition that existed in Africa and blended it with what they found in the Americas. In the last few decades, there’s been a massive reclamation project. Players like Sule Greg Wilson and the aforementioned Dom Flemons have worked tirelessly to show that the bones are a sophisticated African-American contribution to world music, independent of the minstrel stage. They’ve taken the instrument back. It’s a powerful thing to witness.
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Anatomy of the Instrument
You can’t just grab any bone from a steak and start playing. Well, you could, but it would be gross and probably smell. Professional players use "shin bones" (tibia) from cattle. They have to be boiled to remove the marrow, soaked in bleach or hydrogen peroxide, and then sanded down until they’re smooth as glass.
Some people prefer wood. Ebony, rosewood, or rock maple are common. Wood is louder. It’s "bright." But real bone has a hollow, haunting resonance that wood just can’t replicate. It’s the difference between a digital keyboard and a grand piano. There’s a soul in the calcium.
How the pros hold them
It’s usually the middle and ring finger that act as the fulcrum. One bone is held tight. The other is loose. When you flick your wrist—sort of like you’re trying to shake water off your hand—the loose bone strikes the fixed one.
Who is Playing Right Now?
If you want to see the modern vanguard, look up the Rhythm Bones Society. Yes, that’s a real thing. They hold an annual "Bones Fest." It moves around the U.S. and sometimes Europe. You’ll see guys like Kenny Wolin, who brings a technical, almost rudimental drumming approach to the bones. Or Sky Bartlett, who can play with both hands simultaneously while dancing.
It’s a small community, but it’s global. You’ll find players in Quebec (where it’s part of the musique trad scene) and even in parts of Italy and Turkey. Each region has a different "swing."
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The Irish style is often "wet"—lots of clicks and rapid-fire triplets.
The American style is often "dry"—more emphasis on the backbeat and the syncopation with a fiddle or banjo.
Honestly, it’s one of the few instruments where you can’t hide behind technology. There are no pedals. No amps. Just your skeletal structure hitting another animal's skeletal structure. It’s as honest as music gets.
Getting Started Without Looking Silly
If you’re interested in becoming the person who plays on bones, don’t start with expensive custom-carved ribs. Go to a hardware store and buy two 7-inch pieces of white oak or hickory.
- The Grip: Place one bone between your index and middle finger. Tight.
- The Gap: Place the second bone between your middle and ring finger. It should swing freely.
- The Flick: Don't use your arm. Use your wrist. Think of it as a "snap" rather than a "hit."
- The Patience: You will fail for the first three days. Your fingers will ache. Then, suddenly, the physics will click. You’ll find the "sweet spot" where the bone bounces naturally.
Once you master the basic "tap," you move on to the "roll." That’s where the magic happens. A good bones player can make two pieces of wood sound like a galloping horse, a train going over tracks, or a rainstorm on a tin roof.
The bones aren't a museum piece. They aren't "dead" music. Every time someone picks up a pair of ribs and finds a beat, they’re connecting to a timeline that stretches back thousands of years. It’s a rhythmic handshake with the past.
Actionable Steps for the Aspiring Player
To actually learn this, stop reading and start watching. Search for Percy Danforth’s instructional videos on YouTube—they are the gold standard. Seek out the Rhythm Bones Society archives to see the different grip styles (there are more than you think). Most importantly, don't just play to a metronome. Play to a fast fiddle tune. The bones are a social instrument; they crave the company of a melody. If you can find a local bluegrass or Irish jam session, sit in the back and just try to keep the 2 and 4 beats. You'll be surprised how quickly you become the life of the party—or at least the most interesting person in the room.